


Touch (Don't Leave Me)

by PersonyPepper



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Touch-Starved Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonyPepper/pseuds/PersonyPepper
Summary: Geralt is untouchable. Jaskier learns that that first day in Posada, when he takes a witcher's fist to the gut, doubling over in pain as his knees give.No matter. Jaskier is much the same, only he is untouched.Or, Jaskier is touch starved, just as badly as Geralt is. He just hides it a lot better.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 337





	Touch (Don't Leave Me)

Geralt is untouchable. Jaskier learns that that first day in Posada, when he takes a witcher's fist to the gut, doubling over in pain as his knees give.

No matter. Jaskier is much the same, only he is untouched.

The nights of passionate lovers are abandoned as soon as pleasure is found; Jaskier leaves his partner satisfied, but never lingers. His heart aches every time, mourning for a love lost, however brief it had been. But touch means security-- limbs intertwined, sweaty skin pressed together in post fuck bliss-- it's a deeper kind of love than Jaskier is willing to give. So he sneaks out of windows and jumps down low roofs without looking back.

Fucking is great. But intimacy? Well, Jaskier is just as starved for touch as his witcher friend is.

It takes years for Jaskier to realize that Geralt isn't untouchable. It starts with dragging him out of a swamp, witcher half dead in his arms. Jaskier's heart beats so wildly (live,  _ live _ , please, for Melitele's sake,  _ open your fucking eyes _ ) as he cleans wounds, patches up gashes, and stops the bleeding.

He passes out three days later, an unconscious witcher curled up behind him. It's a simple warmth, and Jaskier hates himself for pressing back into it.

Geralt lives, always survives, he is the hero of the story after all (not that that had eased the tightness of Jaskier's throat till amber eyes had peered up at him).

Geralt rides Roach, and Jaskier realizes he's in love as he walks beside him.

Being in true love is incredible until it isn't. Jaskier forgets that he isn't the only one Geralt isn't untouchable to. Yennefer plants her hands over Geralt's pecs, shifts her hips over his.

Chireadan has to drag him away from the sight. Jaskier packs his bags, obviously unwanted, and remembers why he doesn't touch in the first place as he walks into town, walks somewhere far away.

Heartbreak makes his skin itch, aching for something he'll never have. He walks faster, and wishes he'd said goodbye to Roach.

There's a familiar clip of hooves, though, doesn't every horse's clips sound the same? He doesn't know, doesn't care as a very angry witcher stalks toward him.

"Ah! Geralt, how good to see you--" The witcher pulls him into a bone crushing hug without word, tucks his head under Jaskier's chin. People stare, and Jaskier doesn't dare move.

"Touch me." The bard swallows, wondering if Geralt knows what he's asking for. The arms around his shoulders tighten. "Jaskier, touch me," he growls out, and how can Jaskier deny him when he is so, so weak for Geralt's touch? He wraps his arms around Geralt's waist, holds him closer, somehow.

It takes some explaining, how Geralt bound his and Yennefer's destinies together, how they'd soon realized that the nature of their relationship wasn't romantic, so much as desperate.  _ Good friends, _ Geralt tells him, sitting blissfully too close to Jaskier in a dingy little tavern,  _ good friends is all we are. _

Jaskier doesn't know why he's being told this till a hand comes to cup his cheek, implores him to look up from where he'd been staring into his beer. Geralt looks at him for a second, for a second more as he traces the pad of his thumb over the bard's lower lip.

Oh.

Their lips press together, and Geralt's lips are so, so soft.

Geralt isn't untouchable, Jaskier remembers, as he kisses down his spin, sucks bruises into his shoulders (that will no doubt heal in seconds). In fact, Jaskier thinks as he trails his hands down the witcher's side, guides him into his back to see that pretty face, he's quite touchable after all.

Geralt touches him, lets his hands feel the smooth of Jaskier's skin, lets his fingertips trace faint scars and marks. They rock against each other, bodies plastered together in their lovemaking.

And when Jaskier finally collapses into bed beside the witcher, he lingers, hesitant as to if he should stay, and fall in love impossibly deeper, or leave, as he's always done.

Geralt pulls him to his chest, mumbles,  _ “Stay.” _

Jaskier stays, touched.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the spam babes <33


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